


Evil Pie

by thornconnelly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, Derek is a Failwolf, Fluff, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, Peter cooks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 16:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2199372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornconnelly/pseuds/thornconnelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter attempts to convince Scott that he'd be a good pack member by cooking a lot. Stiles makes indecent noises while he eats. Derek is a failwolf and doesn't know how to express himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after 3a.
> 
> I began writing this after bouncing random silly ideas off of my lovely friend Arianna, and has been sitting unfinished in my documents since the hiatus between 3a and 3b.  
> I've finally finished it so I decided to post it.

Stiles groaned in frustration and dropped his head onto the book he was reading. “Lydia,” he said into the book under his face, “I get that you’re doing the heavy lifting with this research since I can’t read archaic Latin yet, but you have to give me more to look for. I mean... I’m looking through a dozen books for something to do with ‘foxes’ or ‘shapeshifters’ or ‘electricity’ or ‘tricksters.’ You do realize how futile this is, right?”

Lydia arched an eyebrow at Stiles and asked, “That’s all I can tell you. This passage is very vague.”

Scott looked up from his homework and suggested, “Maybe we could ask Deaton?”

Stiles shook his head, “What would be the point. I’m sure he’d be even more vague that the archaic Latin. I swear, it’s like he tries to be confusing sometimes. The only person who is less forthcoming with information is Derek, and he’s still on his walkabout with Cora, so it’s not even like we can bug him for information either.”

“Well, I like to think I’ve always been helpful,” Peter says from the edge of Scott’s backyard. The three teens all jump as they look over at man.

“Sure,” Stiles replies after a minute, “helpful whenever it was convenient to you. Otherwise you’re usually kind of useless.”

Peter places a hand over his heart and gently says, “Stiles, I’m wounded. Scott, may I join you?”

Scott nods his head slowly and watches as Peter opens the gate and begins walking toward the picnic table where they teens had been working.

“Lydia,” Peter begins slowly, “I recently realized that I never officially apologized for my behavior. There is no excuse for it, just know that I feel deeply sorry.”

Lydia narrows her eyes and nods slowly. “I notice you aren’t expressing regret for what you did?” She asks.

Peter laughs quietly and spreads his hands, “Since I am alive now, I can’t exactly say that I regret what I did… I just wish… that it hadn’t caused you so much distress.”

“What do you want, Peter?” Stiles asked tiredly. “We’re busy, and none of us really enjoy your company that much.”

“Wounded again,” Peter replied. “Who says I want something?”

“You always do,” Stiles pointed out.

Peter steeples his fingers in front of his chest thoughtfully and said, “Well, I’m not sure I agree with your statement, but in this particular moment, you are correct. With Derek no longer an Alpha, I find myself in a peculiar position.”

“You’re an Omega now,” Scott observes.

Peter gestures towards Scott and softly nods his head.

“And you just expect Scott to take you into his pack, after everything you’ve done?” Stiles asks as he rises from the bench and stands in front of Peter.

“I don’t expect anything,” Peter replies gently, “but I do have a lot of knowledge, and I could prove very helpful. For example, you seem to have something of a kitsune problem on your hands. I could help with that to prove my worth.”

“Kitsune?” Scott asks.

Lydia gasps and begins rapidly flipping through pages before she lands on a page, “Of course! Kitsune are Japanese fox shape-shifters! They can be very wise and powerful, but are also known to be tricksters. How could I have missed that?”

Peter grins softly and shrugs, “I have smelled a few … guests off in the north part of town, but was hesitant to travel there on my own. As you remember, I’m unfortunately still not at my full strength, and thought it best to seek out another before investigating further.”

“So you’re just going to tip Scott off and then send him to solve the problem for you?” Stiles asks as he fists his hands on his hips.

“Not at all! I was going to suggest we go together. As Lydia said, the kitsune are known to be very wise. It may simply be enough for Scott to introduce himself as a True Alpha, and they may leave town.”

*

Of course, it wasn’t that simple. Nothing is ever that simple. But with some fast talking on Stiles’ and Peter’s parts, and some growling on Scott’s and Isaac’s parts, the kitsune finally left Beacon Hills. After that, Stiles got to enjoy a few weeks of normal teenage stress-- midterms and state tests—instead of supernatural stress. He wasn’t quite sure he enjoyed it, but was definitely grateful that his life wasn’t in constant danger.

On the first Saturday after the kitsune left, Stiles was startled awake by a rather unexpected sight. Stiles wouldn’t have said he was used to people invading his bedroom, but Derek had surprised him a few times by appearing in his room at unexpected times. Derek always came looking for information or to ask something about Scott, but since he had been out of town for weeks, Stiles practically screamed when he opened his eyes to realize that Peter was sitting on his computer desk watching him sleep.

“Whoa – stranger danger!” Stiles spluttered as he pulled his blankets up to his chin.

Peter simply smirked and replied, “Don’t be a drama queen. Your father isn’t home, it’s after 10 am, and I come bearing breakfast and information.”

Stiles perked up, “Breakfast? And information?”

Peter spun around and retrieved a tupperware from Stiles’ desk, “Blueberry and chocolate chip muffins. And before the fire, I had been working on scanning some of our old family books into the computer. I brought over my PDFs.”

Stiles had a muffin shoved halfway into his mouth before he paused and choked. “And you’re just showing up here to feed me and give me the gift of information?”

“Well, I promised to prove how helpful I can be. Plus, the information doesn’t help me the way it is—I’ve already read these through front and back. If I share it with you, you’ll be able to solve problems without feeling like you rely on me. I assumed you would appreciate the opportunity to be independent.”

“That’s a very selfless thing for you to do,” Stiles said with squinted eyes.

“It’s really not,” Peter replied genially, “I want Scott to trust me in his pack, and I know that he trusts you more than anyone in the world. I also know that you will appreciate the input of research and information more than he will. Plus, I needed someone to taste-test my muffins and tell me how they are.”

“You made these?” Stiles asked around a full mouth of muffin.

Peter nods and smirks.

“Holy shit dude, these are amazing. I mean it. They’re totally perfect!”

Peter grins and extends his hand with a USB flash drive in it. Stiles tumbles towards him and promptly plugs it into his laptop. Peter remains for only an hour or two, commenting or explaining things as Stiles reads or asks about them, otherwise he just silently sits and watches as Stiles devours the information and muffins he brought over. After Stiles finishes eating all of the muffins, Peter picks up the Tupperware and heads towards the window, “See you around, Stiles.”

Stiles just waves half-heartedly as he intently reads a passage about the traditions behind Alpha interactions.

*

Nearly a month later, Isaac showed up at Stiles’ house an hour after lacrosse practice ended. He was carrying a thick manila envelope and a casserole dish. Stiles opened the door and frowned as he asked, “Isaac, where’s your shadow? I haven’t seen you and Scott separately in weeks.”

Isaac just smirked at Stiles and shoved the casserole dish at him, “Scott’s with Peter—he thinks he smelled fairies, so he wanted Scott to check it out with him. And he told me to bring you this.”

Stiles lifts the lid and sees lasagna and practically squeals, “And the folder?”

Isaac shrugs, but follows Stiles into the kitchen. Stiles turns the oven on and turns to inspect the envelope. There’s a post-it note on the folder that reads, “About fairies. Translated from Old German.”

Isaac opens Stiles’ fridge, grabs two sodas and sits down across from Stiles at the table, “So, I’m going to take a leap in the dark here and guess that real-life fairies aren’t all cute and nice like Tinkerbell.”

“Well, if you think about it… Tinkerbell did try to kill Wendy for stealing Peter’s attention,” Stiles replies absently as he opens his can of soda while flipping through the pages.

“Shit, I guess I never thought about it,” Isaac replied. He watched Stiles read for a few minutes before he pulled a notebook out of his backpack and started working on his homework.

About an hour later, Peter and Scott showed up at Stiles’ door. Their hair and clothing was messy and flecked in blood, although there were no visible wounds on either of them. Before Stiles could say anything, Scott grinned and proclaimed, “Fairies are evil. Seriously. Who knew?”

“Well, it seemed like Peter did,” Stiles replied as he led Scott and Peter into the dining room, where he had spread the notes from Peter all across the table.

“Not necessarily. I’ve only interacted with them once before, and they were from a different tribe. A much less… malicious tribe. They were simply mischievous.”

“And of course we get the evil kind,” Stiles sighs as he returns from the kitchen with Peter’s tray of lasagna. Isaac follows him with a stack of plates and forks.

“What’s that?” Scott asked as Stiles began serving out four plates of lasagna.

“Lasagna,” Stiles replied blandly. Scott stares blankly at Stiles for a few moments before Stiles continues, “No, don’t worry, I didn’t make it. Peter did.”

“Oh good,” Scott sighs and digs into the lasagna. Isaac laughs at Stiles around a mouthful of food.

“So, Stiles, what have you learned so far?” Peter asks as he sits down next to Stiles and turns to face him.

Stiles holds up a finger as he takes a bite of the lasagna, and closes his eyes as he groans. “Shit, this is good. Like, really, really good. Scott, this might be better than your moms’!”

Peter grins as he watches Stiles eat.

After Stiles takes a few more bites, he turns towards Peter and Scott and begins summarizing everything he had learned from reading all of Peter’s notes. 

Scott and the fairies eventually come to a compromise; the fairies only wanted access to the Nemeton to practice an annual holiday. Scott promised that his pack wouldn’t bother them, so long as they quietly and peacefully celebrate their holiday. The fairies ended up leaving after a week or two, but then a troll took up residence under the bridge leading out of town towards the east.

Stiles drove over to Peter’s apartment that Sunday morning with his backpack stuffed with his laptop and all of the books he had in English. Lydia had texted him the night before promising that she was reading through the bestiary and looking for information about trolls.

Peter let Stiles in and quickly walked back towards the kitchen. Stiles followed him and then stopped abruptly in the doorway to the kitchen when he saw the scene laid out before him. “Oh my god, I smell potatoes. I smell frying potatoes. Are those hash browns? Are you making hash browns?”

Peter glanced up at Stiles and smirked, “Basically. It’s a bacon and pepper hash, and there will be sunny-side up eggs on top in a few minutes.”

“Dude, do you just cook gourmet food all the time?”

“Not all the time,” Peter replies as he shifts the potatoes in the pan, “But I used to be a chef, so I find cooking… comforting.”

“Oh… I didn’t know that,” Stiles replies as he sits on a kitchen stool. “What’s your favorite thing to cook?”

Peter doesn’t reply for a few seconds, and Stiles opens his mouth to apologize for asking, just as Peter answers, “My wife used to have a sweet tooth, so I’d spend hours each week baking for her. And Talia loved pot roast. Laura would have eaten pasta every day, if she could. And Derek always loved pancakes. I haven’t cooked for anyone… in a long time.”

Stiles watches Peter thoughtfully before asking, “Cooking is a pack thing for you, isn’t it?”

Peter glances over and narrows his eyes slightly before responding, “I told you and Scott that I could be helpful. I know that I have mainly presented you with my… self-serving side, but there are many other aspects to my personality.”

“So your cooking is a way that you can be helpful to Scott’s pack?”

Peter shrugs, “Maybe. It’s something I enjoy doing. And if it keeps a group of teenage boys happy, who am I to stop?”

“So do you just always cook more food than you need?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… you didn’t know I was coming over this morning… and you seem to have a lot of food cooking.”

“Well, the hash is easy to make, and I can always freeze it if I’m the only one eating. And really, all I have to do extra for you is crack a few eggs.”

Stiles shrugs and opens up the top book, “So from what I’ve been reading so far, the troll is going to want to stay under that bridge until his fee gets paid. And that means our first order of business should be finding out what his fee is… right?”

“That sounds reasonable. If the car batteries keep spontaneously dying as they try to cross the bridge… people will start to notice something soon enough,” Peter replied as he cracked a few eggs onto a pan.

“How likely do you think it is that the troll will just attack us instead of talking with us?”

Peter shrugs, “Since nobody knows what his price to cross the bridge is, he can’t realistically expect to get paid. I think he’ll talk to us. The problem should only arise if we don’t pay him.”

Stiles silently read a few paragraphs about trolls before saying, “Dude, I seriously don’t even know how reputable this book is. It sounds like I could have written this based on Disney movies and folk tales.” He pauses speaking as Peter places a plate and a fork in front of him. “Wait, seriously? It’s done already?”

Peter nods and asks, “Coffee?”

Stiles nods furiously and asks, “Milk and sugar?”

Peter prepares two mugs of coffee and then sits down across from Stiles with his own plate of food, “So, what do you want me to look at first?”

Stiles shrugs and pushes half the pile of books towards Peter. He breaks one of the yolks and hums happily as it runs all over the hash, and then takes a bite. He groans and closes his eyes, “Dude, seriously, it all makes sense now that you used to do this professionally. You are seriously amazing. Like, absolutely amazing.” The only reason Stiles stops talking is so that he can shovel more food into his mouth. He continues reading his book as he eats, and doesn’t even notice that Peter watches him carefully for a few minutes before beginning to eat his own.

*

So apparently, trolls don’t talk to werewolves because of some centuries old grudge, but they’re perfectly content talking to banshees, so Lydia ends up being the pack’s spokesperson. After Deaton helps Scott to get three black sheep, which Peter pays for, the troll is more than happy to move on to a different bridge.

The night when the troll finally leaves is Isaac’s birthday, and Scott, Isaac, Stiles, Lydia, and Allison all gather at Scott’s house for a little celebration. As Allison is ordering pizza, Stiles turns to Scott and asks, “Should we invite Peter?”

Scott shrugs and looks over at Isaac and Lydia, “What do you guys think? He has been pretty helpful lately.”

Isaac shrugs in reply, and Lydia responds, “He has been helpful, you’re right. And he did apologize. I’m trying not to be tied down by grudges, so if you want to invite him, I won’t complain. But Scott, you’re the Alpha, it’s your decision.”

Scott crosses his arms and looks down at his feet thoughtfully, before turning to Stiles and saying, “I still don’t entirely trust him, but he seems to be trying really hard, so let’s call him.”

Stiles pulls out his phone and texts Peter, “celebrating isaacs bday and getting rid of the troll at scotts. We ordered pizza if u wanna come over.”

Peter doesn’t respond, but shows up about fifteen minutes later with a reusable shopping bag filled with Tupperware. When the teens ask him about what he brought, he just shushes them and asks to be alone in the kitchen. The pizza arrives shortly after, and Peter appears briefly in the dining room and eats a slice of pizza with them before returning to the kitchen.

After everyone finishes eating, Stiles pokes his head in the kitchen and asks, “Hey, mysterious master of the kitchen, I have a pile of dirty paper plates – can I have permission to come in so I can throw them out?”

Peter chuckles and nods, but steps so that his body blocks Stiles’ view of what he’s working on. After Stiles drops the plates in the garbage can, he tries to peer around Peter’s shoulder to see what he’s working on, but Peter just side-steps and says, “Stiles, would you mind asking everyone to gather in the dining room again? And if you could manage to shut the lights off once everyone sits down, that would be wonderful.”

Stiles frowns for a second before muttering, “Sure,” and going to follow Peter’s directions.

After everyone has gathered and the lights are off, Peter emerges from the kitchen carrying a large cake on a tray. He grins and begins singing “Happy Birthday,” before everyone jumps in to join him.

Isaac blows out the candles and Stiles doesn’t think he’s seen Isaac grin that widely before. As he cuts the first piece of cake, he says, “Peter, did you make this yourself? Is it… oh my god, is that black cherry ice cream?”

“It is. I remember you telling Derek one time that it was your favorite.”

Isaac gives Peter a strange look for a minute before responding, “That’s… really thoughtful. Thank you.” Isaac continues to serve pieces of the ice cream cake until everyone has a slice.

Stiles hardly blinks when Peter takes a seat next to him, and simply says, “Dude, I cannot believe you made an ice cream cake for Isaac. You had like, no prep time, and still, voila!”

Peter just shrugs and smiles as he takes a bite of his own cake.

*

Stiles wasn’t exactly sure when it became a habit, but every Sunday morning he would head over to Peter’s apartment and research while eating whatever Peter felt like making that day.

One Saturday night, a few weeks after Isaac’s birthday, Peter texted Stiles, “milk or dark chocolate?”

Stiles laughed and texted back, “dark. But all chocolate is good chocolate. What’s on the menu for tomorrow?”

Peter didn’t respond, but Stiles happily packed his backpack with his assortment of old tomes Allison’s father had lent him, a few books Deaton had given to him, and the printed out packet of the bestiary that Lydia had translated for him so far. He had a PDF copy saved on his laptop and on a USB thumb drive too, but he liked being able to highlight and write notes on it. When he got over to Peter’s place, he knocked on the door and whistled softly as he waited for Peter to open the door.

“Good morning, Stiles. You’re just on time,” Peter stated quietly as he opened the door. As usual, he quickly returned to the kitchen, and Stiles trailed behind him.

As Stiles piled his books on the kitchen table, Peter busied himself at the counter, and then walked over to place a plate in front of Stiles’ seat.

“Waffles and bacon, because who can resist a breakfast tradition? But the best part, in my opinion, is this,” Peter said as he presented a second, smaller plate. “Assorted chocolate covered fresh fruit.”

Stiles stared blankly at the second plate for a minute before turning towards Peter with his mouth hanging open, “Waffles, meat, and chocolate fruit? You’re seriously going to spoil me.”

Peter sits down at the table across from Stiles and folds his hands together. “Stiles, why don’t you try this first?” he urges as he pushes the chocolate covered fruit closer to Stiles.

Stiles shrugs as he reaches for a piece and takes a bite. His eyes widen comically and he moans, “Oh my god, Peter. This is… I can’t…. oh my god.” He takes another bite and can’t help but groan even louder, “Seriously – oh my god – I mean… fuck… Peter!”

Stiles’ rambling was cut short as the front door to Peter’s apartment slammed open and a wide-eyed Derek ran into the hall. He stopped short in the doorway to the kitchen and stared at Stiles in confusion. His eyes jumped back and forth between Peter and Stiles, “Stiles… you were…”

“I was what? When did you get back into town, dude?”

Peter raises his hands and rests his chin on them as he watches Derek struggle for words, “But you… I heard you…”

Stiles raises an eyebrow, “Dude, seriously, we need to work on your communication skills.”

“No,” Derek replies shortly as he draws his eyebrows together and tries again, “What were you just doing?”

“Eating these,” Stiles says as he lifts the plate of chocolate covered fruit towards Derek, “seriously, have you ever had chocolate covered pineapple before? This might legitimately be the most delicious thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Derek stared down at the plate for a minute before he slapped his hand over his face, “And those are the noises you make when you eat?”

Stiles shrugged in response.

Derek dropped his hand and glared at his uncle, “Stiles, I got into town last night. Peter asked me to come over today to look into something with him.”

Peter nodded and suddenly stood, “Yes I did, but I thought you’d come by later in the day. Stiles and I have work to do together. Why don’t you come back around three? We should be finished by then.”

Derek raised his eyebrows and looked between his uncle and Stiles. Stiles shrugged and pulled a book towards him, “Glad to have you back in town, Derek. You should let Scott know you’re here.”

Derek scowled as he turned and walked out of the apartment.

“Now, Stiles, what would you like me to do for you first?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek is, for the most part, perfectly happy with his place in Scott's pack--he just wishes that Peter would go stop feeding Stiles all the time.

Derek felt more content than he had in a very long time. He watched Stiles laugh as he leaned on Scott’s shoulders. There were bright red spots high up on his cheeks and he clutched his stomach as he laughed helplessly.

  
Isaac looked over at Stiles from Scott’s other side and said through his own fit of laughter, “Stiles, I know I’ve never said this before… but you might actually be a genius.”

  
Derek chuckled and nodded, which causes Stiles to scoff and punch weakly at his arm. “Who could have known?” Stiles said between gasps for air, “Seriously. The imps said they wanted to fight for the territory over a game. And they suggested lacrosse. Lacrosse!”

  
“We’re lucky they didn’t cheat at all,” Scott said.

  
“How can you cheat when half the team you’re playing against has super powers?” Stiles asks as he attempts to stand on his own.

  
“We don’t have super powers, you jerk,” Isaac protested. “We were just faster and stronger than the imps.”

  
“And the fact that they were a foot shorter than you guys did help a little,” Allison pointed out as she walked beside the boys. “So, where to now?”

  
Scott shrugged, “We can order pizzas at my place.”

  
Stiles’ phone beeps and he reads the text he received, “Or we can go to Peter’s. He says congrats, by the way, and that he made too much food.”

  
Derek scowled and crossed his arms. “That’s convenient,” he muttered.

  
Isaac and Scott exchange looks, and Scott replies, “Sure. Sounds good.”

  
Scott and Allison pile into Stiles’ Jeep with him while Isaac rides with Derek in his car. In less than ten minutes, the five of them are getting into the elevator in Peter’s apartment building. Stiles rubs his hands together, “I can’t wait to see what Peter cooked! Can you guys smell it yet?”

  
Derek scowls and shakes his head, but Scott lifts nose and sniffs, “It could be salmon or curry… or pizza… or fried chicken. No, I guess there are too many different smells in here.”

  
“That’s why I hate living in apartment buildings,” Derek points out, “there are too many people and all of their smells and everything.”

  
The elevator doors opened and Stiles rushed down the hallway towards Peter’s apartment. He knocked merrily and grinned at Peter as he opened the door.

  
“Congratulations on beating the imps! I wish I had the lacrosse skills to have helped you, but alas, that was not a popular sport when I was in high school. But! I made food for everyone. I hope that makes up for it.”

  
Scott grinned as he walked in, “Stiles has been talking non-stop about your cooking, and Derek was a huge help with the game, so everything’s great.”

  
Derek grimaced but didn’t respond. Peter clapped Derek on the back as he gestured towards the dining room, “Everyone, have a seat, I’m sure Stiles won’t mind helping me with the food?”

  
Stiles nodded enthusiastically and began moving towards the kitchen. Scott chuckled as he heard his best friend exclaim, “Dude did you make wings? You did! You made buffalo wings! I seriously love you!”

  
Derek sat down abruptly on the couch in the living room and crossed his arms while Isaac and Allison fought over who got to sit in Peter’s reclining chair. Scott sat down next to Derek and asked, “Derek, I haven’t seen you this scowly since … well, in a really long time.”

  
“It’s nothing,” Derek growled out softly.

  
Peter reappeared in the living room and asked, “Derek, would you mind helping us too? I’m not really sure how many plates Stiles can safely carry.”

  
Derek sighed but stood up and followed Peter into the kitchen. He stopped short, however, as soon as he stepped into the room and simply stared at Stiles as he licked sauce off of his fingers.

  
Peter laughed and swatted in Stiles’ direction, “I thought I could trust you alone with the food for a minute.”

  
Stiles just grinned around his thumb as he sucked it clean. He made a popping noise as he pulled his finger out of his mouth, “Sorry, they just smelled so good.”

  
Derek made a choking noise as he grabbed at a stack of plates. The sight of Stiles’ licking his fingers should be illegal. It was just downright indecent.

  
“Did you try one of the teriyaki wings?”

  
Stiles eyes widen as he turns to where Peter is pointing, and grabs a chicken wing. He pops the whole thing in his mouth and wiggles it around for a few seconds, before pulling out just the two bare bones. Derek let out a strangled noise as he clutches the dishes to his chest and dashes out the door.

  
“What was wrong with him?” Stiles asks Peter thoughtfully.

  
Peter just smiles and shrugs.

*

“I seriously don’t want to jinx anything,” Stiles said as he leaned on his knees, panting, “but this past month might have been the best of my life.”

  
“Nothing has tried to kill us,” Isaac continued as he breathed deeply. Even the werewolf was showing signs of exertion after their game of lacrosse, “and Derek, how come you never mentioned you knew how to play lacrosse before those imps challenged us? You could have been helping us practice all along.”

  
Derek sat down on the bench in Scott’s backyard as he responded, “Somehow, between Peter being a crazy homicidal Alpha, the kanima, the Darach and the Alpha pack… it just slipped my mind.”

  
Stiles barked his laughter through a hoarse throat and gratefully caught the water bottle Scott tossed at him. Derek watched as Stiles drank half of the water bottle, pouring a good amount of it onto his face and neck. Derek realized he was smiling as he watched Stiles when Scott bumped into him and offered him a water bottle too. He flushed as Scott raised an eyebrow and nodded towards Stiles. Derek shook his head minutely and Scott shrugged and smiled. He hoped that Scott hadn’t noticed just how often Derek had been watching Stiles lately – he didn’t want to need to explain himself to the young Alpha.

  
“Plus, I think you’re right, Derek,” Scott said as he took a sip of his own water, “playing lacrosse together is kind of training us as a pack too. We have to work together and communicate and things.”

  
“And I honestly like lacrosse better than being slammed to the floor in that train depot,” Isaac pointed out.

  
Stiles leaned over and nudged Derek in the side, “I’m not saying anything about who was the better Alpha… but Scott does seem to be more fun.”  
Derek shrugged as he took another sip of water and leaned in towards Stiles, “I’m not saying anything about who was the better Alpha either… but I think I like things the way they are now.”

  
“Seriously,” Stiles replied as he turned and wrapped an arm over Derek’s shoulders, “you’re much less scowly now. And I swear you were really smiling the other day. Also, when did I get this tall? I don’t think I could put my arm on your shoulders before… are you shrinking?”

  
Derek shrugged but remained facing Stiles, and just as he opened his mouth to say something, Stiles’ head whipped around at the sound of Peter’s voice.

  
“Hello my young whippersnappers, I come bearing pie!”

  
Stiles grabbed his arm back and made a dash for where Peter was standing holding two pies. Derek’s face crashed into a scowl, and Scott nodded at Isaac, who quickly began walking towards Stiles and Peter. Scott leaned over towards him and softly said, “Dude, chill. It’s just pie.”

  
“It’s not just pie, though,” Derek responded. “It’s Peter’s pie. The pie is evil. It’s evil pie. And evil chicken wings, and evil chocolate fruit.”  
Scott chuckled and sat down next to Derek, “I don’t want to say that you’re overreacting… but I think you might be reading into the whole thing wrong.”

  
“I brought three pies,” Peter explained loudly, “cherry, blueberry, and apple. Red, blue, and gold.”

  
“Just like the color of all your eyes!” Stiles exclaimed.

  
Peter nodded and smirked, “Which would you like, Stiles?”

  
“Blueberry! I like blue.”

  
Derek turned to Scott and pointed at Stiles as Peter began cutting a piece of pie for him, “See? Blue! Just like Peter’s eyes.”

  
“Dude, your eyes are also blue,” Scott pointed out.

  
Derek didn’t reply, just leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t care if it looked like he was sulking. He was an adult and could react to things however he wanted.

  
*  
Derek sighed as he leaned back in his chair. Scott looked up from his book and yawned as Stiles pushed his book away from him. “I think it’s time for us to go,” Scott said, “my mom said dinner would be ready by six.”

  
Stiles nods and rises from the table, “Derek we’ll be back for the meeting by 8:30, and then we’ll figure out what to do with the pixies.”

  
“I could just go and check them out myself,” Derek offered.

  
“No,” Stiles said firmly, “Because the last time you went to check something out by yourself you got mauled by that chimera.”

  
“Well, how was I supposed to know it was going to attack as soon as I got near it?”

  
“You weren’t supposed to go by yourself,” Stiles replies quickly.

  
“Guys,” Scott interrupts, “Derek, you’ll wait until we get back to plan something?” Derek nods. “Good, Stiles, let’s go. I don’t want my mom to get angry at us.”

  
Stiles nods and points a finger at Derek, “I’m serious dude, no heroics.”

  
“I promise,” Derek said quietly as he stares up at Stiles. Stiles doesn’t blink as he stares back at Derek, but he jumps suddenly when the door to Derek’s apartment opens loudly.

  
Peter steps in and puts down two large paper bags of food on Derek’s kitchen counter, “Don’t you boys have a family dinner to go to?”

  
Stiles nods as he walks over and begins to investigate the contents of the bags. Peter half-heartedly pushes Stiles away from a bag, “Those are snacks for later—you don’t want to spoil your appetite for Melissa’s cooking, do you?”

  
“I’ll be fine,” Stiles says as he grins and pulls a pretzel rod out of a bag. He sticks half the rod in his mouth and walks back towards Derek to pick up his backpack. Derek stares wide-eyed at Stiles as he slowly pulls the pretzel out of his mouth. He slowly sucks the pretzel rod back into his mouth and Derek lets out a small choking sound.

  
Scott rolls his eyes and turns Stiles towards the door, “Dude, you are ridiculous.”

  
“What? Me?” Stiles asks as he looks back at Scott while still being pushed towards the door.

  
“Yes, you. Just keep walking.”

  
“Dude, enough of the manhandling, I’m walking. Why am I ridiculous?”

  
“You just are.” Scott says as he glances back at Derek just as the door closes behind him.

  
“It’s a wonder that boy stays so skinny with all the food he eats,” Peter says. Derek nearly jumps as he realizes that his uncle is standing right next to him.

  
Derek just scowls and closes his book. He knows that he won’t get any reading done while Peter is here, so he walks towards the kitchen to see what he brought over.

  
“Why do you always have to feed him?” Derek blurts after a minute.

  
Peter smirks, “What do you mean?”

  
“It’s just, you always feed him. And he talks about you and your cooking.”

  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Scott is still unsure about my position in the pack, so I cook for all of them. It’s my little way of proving myself.”

  
“But… the way he eats…. It’s so … it’s just not appropriate.”

  
Peter coughs and pulls two bottles of soda from the bags on the counter, “I hadn’t noticed, but if you want, I can talk to him about it—“

  
“No, don’t,” Derek says furiously as he stands abruptly. He throws the book he was reading onto the table and stalks towards the door, “I’ll be back soon-- I need to run.”

  
*

  
Derek groaned as he pulled out his cell phone and texted, “SCOTT EMERGENCY AT LOFT I NEED YOUR HELP.”

  
“What happened?”

  
“We’re on our way”

  
“r u ok?”

  
“derek!”

  
“WHO’S WE?” Derek responded frantically after reading the quick succession of Scott’s texts.

  
“Stiles n me”

  
“DON’T BRING STILES”

  
“What? Dude we’re almost there”

  
“DON’T BRING STILES!!!” Derek groaned again as he heard Stiles’ Jeep park outside his building. He dropped his phone as he let his head fall back and hit the wall in defeat. As he hears Scott begin to run up the stairs towards his loft, Derek contemplates getting up—he might be able to hide the evidence if he moves fast enough—but he knows it’s pointless—the smell is so obvious and pervasive that even Stiles would notice it.

  
Scott practically threw the door open as he flung himself into Derek’s loft, “What is it? Are you okay?” he asked as he looked at Derek sitting on the floor of the kitchen. “Derek?”

  
Derek just groaned and dropped his face into his hands as Stiles finally rushed into the loft.

  
“I’m here,” he panted as he put a hand on Scott’s shoulder to brace himself up, “What’s the emergency?” He paused as he took in Derek’s appearance, “Dude… did someone attack you with a bag of flour?”

  
Derek looks up and sees the two boys staring at him with identical looks of confusion, “I think it would be less embarrassing if I said yes.”

  
Stiles takes a few hesitant steps towards Derek and surveys the kitchen, “Were you baking?” he asks as he looks at the bowl of batter and eggs on the counter.

  
Derek nods miserably.

  
“And you burned it?”

  
Derek nods again.

  
Scott tries to stifle a laugh and Stiles shoots him a look and then reaches a hand down towards Derek, “Come on, big guy, we’ll help you clean it up.”

  
Derek sighs as he takes Stiles’ hand and stands up, “But… I’m usually good at baking. I’ve never had a problem before.” He glances down at where his hand is still joined with Stiles’ and feels warmth spread in his chest.

  
Stiles grins and elbows him gently in the chest, “Problems performing? Don’t worry I’ve heard it’s a common problem for older guys.”

  
Derek splutters, “What? No—it’s not like—it isn’t—I don’t” but stop talking when he sees Stiles’ wide grin. “Shut up,” he mutters as he pulls the garbage can towards the oven.

  
“What were you trying to make anyway?” Scott asks as he enters the kitchen.

  
“Strudel,” Derek replies sadly, “and danishes.”

  
“Ooh! Those are my favorites!” Stiles exclaims, and Derek just looks at him sadly.

  
Scott stops eyeing the oven and turns to Stiles, “Can you go open the windows? It’s gonna get pretty smoky in here once we open the oven.” Stiles shrugs but complies and as soon as he crosses the room, Scott rushes up to Derek and whispers, “Derek were you baking that for Stiles?”

  
Derek doesn’t respond, but his pursed lips and furrowed brow are enough of a response for Scott to continue whispering, “You didn’t have to use the same ploy as Peter to get him to like you! Just talk to him.”

  
“How?” Derek demands hopelessly.

  
“With words!” Scott whispers hoarsely.

  
Derek spreads his hands and shakes his head as if to demonstrate how bad he is with words when Stiles comes back towards the kitchen and cheerfully says, “All right I opened every window I could find—now let’s clean this place up!”

  
Scott and Derek jump away from each other as Stiles begins talking, and he looks at the two of them suspiciously for a minute before grinning again and trying to clean up the spilled flour.

  
After they get the kitchen all cleaned, Scott pulls out his cell phone and says, “Allison texted me—her dad wants to talk to me about their new protocols or something. I’m going to run over there—Stiles you can hang out or whatever, I’ll see you later.”

  
“What? You don’t want me to come? I can help—I’ve been studying the bestiary with Lydia. Or should Derek go? And how are you going to get there? I can drive you.”

  
“No—they only need me. And I’ll run. You two hang out.” Scott says as he begins backing towards the door.

  
Stiles shrugs once the door behind Scott and turns towards Derek. Stiles takes in his wide eyes and says, “Dude, do you want to shower? You seriously look like a mess-plus I want to check out that new couch you got.”

  
Derek looks down at his appearance and frowns when he realizes just how covered in flour he is—his own appearance had paled in comparison to the importance and embarrassment of the epic baking failure, but as he’s looking at himself, he can’t help but grin, “It does look like I got in a fight with the flour.”

  
Stiles laughs and pushes at Derek’s shoulder, “Go get cleaned up—there’s a Marvel marathon on FX today—we can watch that and enjoy your fancy new couch.”

  
Derek realizes that he’s still smiling in the shower. He had panicked when Scott suddenly left—but he wasn’t exactly sure why. He had spent time alone with Stiles before, granted, it was usually in life or death situations, but still. He had never been nervous about being near the hyperactive teen before. In the beginning, he had found Stiles irritating and vaguely useful, but as time went by, his usefulness become more and more apparent, and his annoying traits grew to be more like endearing quirks.

  
Derek was lost in thought as he walked out of the bathroom and towards the loft stairs. He paused when he realized Stiles wasn’t on the couch, but instead lying on the floor next to it—“What are you doing down there?”

  
Stiles flailed his arms in Derek’s general direction, “What are you doing… with… that towel… so low…”

  
Derek glances down at the towel he had carelessly slung around his hips. He shrugged and then continued towards the stairs. He couldn’t help but smirk, though, at the thought that maybe his appearance had caused Stiles to flail so hard he fell off the couch. He had seen the teen overreact to things in the past, so it was a plausible option.

  
Derek began to smell popcorn as he was getting dressed, and came downstairs to see Stiles moving confidently around the kitchen. He took a deep breath and thought about what Scott had said, “Stiles,” he began, but paused once Stiles turned around to look at him. His cheeks were hollowed out as he sucked on the straw of a juice box, “That!” Derek said as he pointed at Stiles fervently, “That’s what I mean!”

  
Stiles pulled the juice box out of his mouth and stared at Derek with wide eyes, “My juice box?” He said slowly.

  
“No! You just always have something in your mouth! And Peter is always feeding you. And you said you loved him!”

  
“What?” Stiles’ brows furrow in confusion, “Dude, what are you talking about?”

  
“Peter is always cooking, and you’re always eating his food, and you said you love it and him and I just can’t—I can’t compete with that!” Derek crosses his arms as he finishes.

  
Stiles slowly approaches Derek, “Peter cooks for the pack, and I’m always hungry. I act the same way at Melissa’s house when she cooks for me too. I love food, dude.” He paused for a second, “Ha! I rhymed. But anyway, you know that. About the food. And seriously, I don’t think I ever said I loved Peter. That would just be weird. He’s weird. Totally less of a creepster since he’s feeding us and not actively trying to kill us anymore, but still. Weird.”

  
Derek looks up and realizes just how close Stiles is standing to him—close enough that Derek could easily reach out and touch Stiles’ face. Derek doesn’t realize that his hand is moving until he feels Stiles’ cheek under his palm.

  
Stiles’ eyes softened as he softly spoke, “Derek, were you baking for me?” Derek’s eyes open wide and he pulls back in surprise. Stiles’ hand shoots out surprisingly quickly and grabs Derek’s hand before he moves more than a step back. “No--don’t--it’s okay,” Stiles murmurs.

  
Derek looks down at their joined hands and glances back up at Stiles. He swallows and nods quickly.

  
Stiles runs his other hand through his hair and sighs, “Derek, I… You don’t have to bake for me the way Peter does, because I like you to begin with. I like hanging out with you, and I like that you seem to like hanging out with me, and us, and you’re not sulking all the time, which, by the way, you totally had reason to… but I’m glad that you’re back. And… I’m glad that you tried to bake for me… even if it didn’t work.”

  
Derek smiled and ducked his head, “I know you want to watch movies, but I have more supplies if you want to bake with me?”

  
“Dude, there is almost nothing in the world I want more than to eat freshly baked pastries while sitting on the awesome couch with you while watching Marvel movies,” Stiles answered with a wide grin.

  
“Maybe… what if I kissed you?” Derek asked hesitantly, looking up at Stiles and smiling slightly.

  
Stiles stared at Derek blankly for a second, before breaking out into another wide grin, “Yea?”

  
“Yea,” Derek replied as he leaned forward. He moved his hand back up to cup Stiles’ cheek and closed his eyes just as his lips met Stiles’. Both of Stiles’ arms flailed up for a brief second, before settling on Derek’s upper arms. Derek pulled back slowly and smiled as he looked at Stiles’s closed eyes and parted lips. Stiles opened his eyes and grinned back at Derek, as he slid his hands to rest on the back of Derek’s neck. He leaned forward and pressed a brief kiss against Derek’s lips before pulling back.

  
“So, let’s get this started!”

  
Derek followed after Stiles and couldn’t help but grin widely as he thought to himself. He was looking forward to the day that Stiles had planned for them, and began thinking about what they could do together tomorrow, and next week, and next month. Stiles turned back to Derek and reached out to take his hand. He had been hesitant about coming back to Beacon Hills, but now, as he wrapped his fingers around Stiles' hand, he couldn’t be happier about coming home.


End file.
